“Isn’t that convenient?”
“Okay. You got me. I was thinking about eating you then. I was thinking about eating you when I first met you, and I’ve been thinking about eating you every day since. But I think about eating all the time. An hour ago I almost ate Zap when his back was turned.”
Zap piped up from the other room. “Not cool, dude!”
“Yeah, yeah.” Vom shrugged. “The point is that just because I’m thinking about eating you doesn’t mean I’m going to.”
“Maybe you won’t,” she replied. “But if you don’t devour me then Smorgaz will probably smother me beneath an avalanche of clones. Or Zap will disintegrate me. I’m not saying it’ll happen on purpose, though I expect it will because, as you just pointed out, you—all of you—have innately destructive natures that you are struggling against every day. And all it takes is one slip, and it’s over.”
Vom said, “You’re exaggerating.”
“No. I’m not. And even if one of my roommates doesn’t kill me then some other confused beast from beyond will. And if by some miracle that doesn’t happen then I’m practically guaranteed to either go stark raving mad or be deemed too dangerous to exist and be shoved into exile in Apartment Zero. And I’d most definitely prefer to be eaten or zapped or smothered over that anyway.”
Vom stepped toward her. She thrust her mascara wand at his reflection.
“Don’t get any ideas now.”
Vom smiled innocently.
Diana continued, “And let’s not forget that Chuck—who does appear to be a nice, funny, and handsome guy —has a vicious little creature of his own that keeps him locked in his apartment for days on end. And that he’ll probably either die a violent death at the hands of that monster, or go insane, or end up in Apartment Zero.”
“So you’re just looking for a good time then?” asked Vom.
“I don’t know what I’m looking for. I’m just taking it one day at a time. So could you let me enjoy this?”
Vom said, “Fair enough.”
She finished putting on her makeup, checked herself in the mirror one last time. It’d been a while since she’d put on her little blue dress. It looked good, but a touch on the formal side of casual. If they had been going out, even if only to a movie or a restaurant, then it would’ve been a good choice, but she wondered if it was too much for a dinner in his apartment. Maybe jeans would’ve been a better choice.
She was halfway to her closet when she decided she was overanalyzing. Jeans and a nice top might’ve been more appropriate, but this was a date. She hadn’t been on a date in a while, and if she wanted to wear her little blue dress, she’d wear it.
She gave her inhuman roommates instructions not to wait up and walked down the hall to Chuck’s apartment. The dog was at the door. It made a peculiar gurgle, and its long, barbed tail whipped in dangerous circles as she approached. The creature moved to one side as she approached.
“Thank you,” she said. For a hideous demon from beyond, it was almost cute.
She knocked on the door, and Chuck answered.
He wore a T-shirt and slacks. For a moment she considered excusing herself and changing, but from the way his gaze lingered on her she knew he liked what he saw. This dress did do amazing things for her. She had a good figure, but the dress pushed things in the right directions and gave her narrow hips a little extra oomph. She was also wearing a push-up bra, which she knew was cheating. But she’d yet to meet a guy who cared once the illusion was unclasped. If it even came to that. She was getting ahead of herself.
“You’re early.”
“Traffic was light.”
Chuck smiled. He ran his fingers through his hair, and a forelock fell across his brow.
He tepped aside and let her in.
“Something smells good,” she said.
“Lasagna,” he replied.
“Great. I love Italian.”
“That’s good, because it’s really the only thing I can cook.”
While he checked on the meal she relaxed on the sofa and took stock of the mishmash of styles in his apartment. The floating coffee table interested her the most. She tested its stability by pressing one hand against it, then two. Lightly at first, then harder. It didn’t budge. She tested the underside, but it remained steady.
“Yeah, I can’t figure out how to move it,” he said. “Can’t move any of the furniture actually. Although sometimes when I’m not looking it changes. That sofa is only a few weeks old. Before that it was a rocking chair.”
“Do you think it makes any sense?” she asked.
“They’re both designed for sitting.”
“Not that. Not just that anyway.” Diana made a sweeping gesture. “Any of this.”
“I don’t know. Maybe.” He offered her a glass of wine. “Maybe it all fits together on a cosmic scale that we’ll never be able to understand. Could be that there’s a master plan going on, and we’re just bumbling our way through it. Or it could all be chaos, entropy, and any sense we try to make of it will only be the elaborate fantasies of small, inadequate perceptions. Either way, I don’t see how we’d be able to perceive the difference.”
“You’ve thought about this a lot,” she said.
“You haven’t?”
They clinked their glasses together in a toast.
“How could you not?” she said.
“You’ll want it to make sense,” he said. “You’ll never stop wanting that. But after a while you realize that it doesn’t matter. You just take things day by day and don’t expect order. You just hope for some semblance of stability.”
“Yeah. That’s what I miss most. Stability. Predictability. I don’t know if the real world is any more sensible than this, but it was at least steady. Now everything’s up in the air. If I went back to my apartment and found everything had turned purple, I probably wouldn’t even bat an eye at this stage. But it’s still hard to get comfortable when everything can be topsyturvy in a moment.”
She gulped down the wine and licked her lips.
“Wow. Don’t normally like wine, but this is yummy.” He poured her another glass. She swallowed this with another swig. A drop ran down the corner of her mouth and she dabbed at it with her finger, then sucked the moistened fingertip with a satisfied sigh.
Chuck looked away like he’d caught her in the middle of an intimate moment.
“Sorry,” she said. “I guess this is really good wine.”
“I guess so.”
She chuckled. He joined her, and the awkwardness dissolved.
“Want some more?” he asked.
“No, I’m good. Two glasses is my limit.” Diana eyed the bottle. “Well, one more glass wouldn’t hurt anything.”
A timer buzzed in the kitchen, signaling the lasagna’s readiness. She watched him pull it out of the oven.
“It’ll probably be too hot to eat,” he said. “We’ll have to let it cool down.”
“It smells too good,” she said, presenting her plate. “I can’t wait.”
“Okay, but don’t get mad at me if you burn your mouth.”
“Can I even do that anymore? I’m told I’m immune to conventional harm now.”
He dropped a slice on her plate.
She frowned. “Oh, come on. Don’t be stingy. I’m starving.”
He served her more, and when her frown remained he gave her another slice. Her mouth watering, she pulled away the heaping plate, grabbed a dirty fork out of the sink, and started eating.
“Did you skip lunch?”
It took Diana a few moments to chew all the food jammed in her mouth. “No, I’m just hungry for some reason. This is really good by the way.”
“Thanks. It’s an old recipe my dad—”
